844 days, 20,256 hours, 1,215,360 minutes, or 72,921,600 seconds. That is the approximate duration of my world tour. I never wanted it to end and now, in a manner of speaking, I suppose it never has to. If you wish to go by country do so by clicking on one above. They are numbered in the order I visited them, more or less. If you enjoy reading about it even a tenth as much as I enjoyed living it then you will not have wasted your time. Grab a refreshing beverage, settle in a comfortable chair, and make a journey across the world, experiencing it as I did. Then get off your ass and check it out for yourself. You're not getting any younger.

River Not So Wild (Sun Kosi, Nepal)

Oct
27th, 2009- Traveling indefinitely does nothing to improve your
concept of time. Spending nine days rafting down a river can only
exacerbate the problem. Einstein was right. Time is relative. A
two hour ride out of Kathmandu brought me and my band of hearty
adventurers to the beginning of our voyage down the Sun
Kosi (River of Gold). The morning was spent preparing supplies and inflating the raft by hand all the while basking/baking in the
Nepali sun.

We
finally set out after lunch and so it began. The cast included two
brothers and a solo female from England, one guy from Switzerland and
another from Canada. Alex, Nick, Kirstin, Jason, and Adrienne. And
then there were two guides (Sonkor and Armid), a safety kayaker
(Ashrak), and two porters (Arun and ???) that appeared to be entering
the early stages of puberty.

The
first night was probably not the most auspicious of beginnings due in
no small part to the consumption of no less than four bottles of
liquor. As the night progressed it descended into mayhem. After a few
drinks I retired a bit early as I was anxious to lay in my sleeping bag
on the sand and drift away while gazing at a clear night sky speckled
with stars and galaxies. Some of what happened next is up for debate
as no one can completely piece the evening together.

At
one point three heterosexual gentlemen decided it would be a good
idea to go skinny dipping in the Sun Kosi. The water is by no means
freezing but it ain't warm either,
especially at night. It is certainly enough to send your balls
running towards the warmth of your stomach. And two brothers standing
naked by the fire in attempt to increase their body temperature was
probably a most impressive sight to be sure.

Luckily,
I was dozing in the sand fifty feet away. I was fortunate enough to
awake to the sound of two half-naked brothers (they decided to don
shorts at this point) wrestling in the sand while one of our guide Songkor (also shitfaced) was screaming dire warnings of potential
repercussions at the top his lungs in a stuttering form of English
that defies comprehension and description for that matter.

So
there I am in that semi-conscious state watching two dudes roll
around in the sand to the sound of, “YOU GUYS STOP BLOODY FUCKING
FIGHTING DRUNK BLEEDING NOT ENGLAND IS NEPAL FUCK GO AWAY HIKE
TOMORROW BLOODY FUCKING BLEEDING NOT YOUR COUNTRY BLOODY FUCKING
FIGHTING BLEEDING GO SLEEP!!!!!”. Nice.

The
scuffle was nothing more than two drunk siblings having a go at one
another sans animosity. Boys will be boys. They tried explaining this
to Sonkor (guide) but I am not sure he was convinced. Perhaps the
blood running down Alex’s face had something to do with the
veracity of their story. Apparently, he was so disgruntled with their
behavior that he kicked over their tent and poured river water all
over it. No one is really sure but this seems to be the consensus.
This did not deter Nick from crawling inside the flattened shelter
and trying to have a snooze nor did it stop his brother Alex from
trying to resurrect the tent while Nick was inside. If only I could
have watched that process unfold.

At
some point both decided the effort was futile and crawled into the
adjoining tent that housed Jason the Canadian, but not before
attempting to invade the other tents (they were repelled by the
inhabitants). So there they lay face down, sopping wet, and piss
drunk with not a sliver of clothing for warmth (save a pair of
shorts). Had I not been sleeping outside I would have probably ended
up being the middle spoon between the dynamic duo. So that was our
first night.

Thankfully,
the next day all was well and any hard feelings smoothed over. The
journey continued. The Sun Kosi is by no means a white water
rollercoaster of treacherous white water. It is famous for its
combination of white water, mountain village atmosphere, and scenic
beauty. In fact from what I have read it is considered one of the ten
classic river trips in the world. With a length of 270 kilometers it
is easily the longest river trip in Nepal and makes for an
interesting journey.

Dinner table

For some reason this dude thought wearing a dead snake around his neck a keen idea

Richie sleepy

Shitter on the bank

Every
night we camped along a perfect sandy beach and passed our evenings
by the fire under a star-filled sky. In truth I was hoping for a bit
more high-paced river action but the trip was perfect for what it
was. Had I done a bit more research I probably would have opted for a
different river with more continuous rapids but I have little reason
to complain. This is due in no small part to the folks that joined me
on the trip. We were jovial bunch and spent much of the time laughing
profusely.

This
is not to say that the trip was not without some exciting whitewater,
just that the periods in between rapids was a bit lengthy. And we did
negotiate a Class V (Hakapur) which accounted for a bit of an adrenaline charge. All rafts first stop on the river bank and walk a
bit to get a good view of the monster. For someone with little
experience it did make my heart beat a bit faster just looking at it.
Half-way through there is a big hole of water created by boulders
that you do not want to get sucked into. Doing so will result in the
inevitable capsizing of the raft. That is a bad thing.

The
idea is to stay to the left and skirt the beast. As it turns out
someone died here about a month ago (although we already knew about
it our guide did not share that tidbit until afterward).

The
actual ride was a bit anti-climatic as if it is done correctly there
is very little in the way of excitement. It was the set of rapids
directly following that one that provided the boat churning
sensation. In fact for most of the trip it was the longer stretches
of Class III rapids that provided the most gratification as it is
possible to hit them head on, sideways, and backwards for full
effect. During such stints it was not uncommon to find myself heeing
and haaawing like a deranged cowboy.

And
now a word on the staff. For those of you that have been reading
along for the duration you will be familiar with my inability to ever
really get a grasp of some situations due to language barriers and
cultural differences. Well, this trip was no exception. It was more
like the absolute epitome of all I have encountered thus far. And it
was not just me. For the most part none us had any clue as to what
was going on at any given point…..ever.

Let’s
start with the porters. They looked awfully young but we were told
their ages were 19 and 22. When we sort of called bullshit it was
admitted they were actually 15 and 17. And then I believe it was
finally revealed that their true ages were 14 and 16….probably. I
guess they did not want us to question the decision to utilize child
labor. It was a holiday so we were assured that they were on a school
break and the reason for their attendance was to learn the ropes in
order to one day obtain employment as river guides. They were working
in exchange for a free trip and an apprenticeship…….probably.

What
is the definition of ‘rapid’? Well, that would depend.
Apparently, to our guides a rapid is anything Class IV or above. All
else is a slight ripple. So when we are told that the ‘rapids’
are finished for the day and we relax only to be nearly jostled out
of the boat by a non-‘rapid’ you can understand our confusion.

In
fact during one our relaxing floats through a non-‘rapid’ the
other boat almost capsized. I guess if a stretch of river has not
been given an actual name then it does not exist……probably.

I
have yet to pinpoint the definition of the word ‘soon’. I have
narrowed it down to somewhere between a half -hour and three hours.
At one point I was told we were going to camp ‘soon’. We then
stopped for lunch and continued on after that for another two and a
half hours. Right.

One
of the guides, Songkor, was particularly nebulous. In fact I would
guess that I understood no more than 15% of anything he ever said and
that may be a bit optimistic. He was quite fond of saying something
he knew to be funny and then laughing semi-hysterically at what he’d
just said. His reaction was similar on many occasions when one of us
would say something that was not meant to be a joke. He would laugh,
then we would laugh because he was laughing for reasons beyond us,
then he would continue laughing because he thought everyone was in on
the joke, then we would laugh because he was laughing because he
thought he knew what everyone was laughing at. It was a vicious
cycle.

There
was a time that he said the woods behind our camp might contain a
tiger. We asked if he was serious and he said yes but then laughed
like a lunatic again. On another occasion he stated that the monkeys
in the trees behind our site were ‘one of the most danger things’
on the river but later implied the danger was related to their
possible attempt to violate us sexually while we slept (This was more
directed at me personally as I was the only one sleeping under the
stars, usually by the camp fire.)

Even
if you wanted a straight answer on something it was impossible to
tell if he was serious. On one evening were discussing the rather
surprising fact that given the lack of daylight it was only 7 pm to
which Songkor responded with something to the effect, “you mean 7
am’, followed by another succession of maniacal laughter which
instigated the same in all of us.

The
evening at our third campsite was quite memorable. Without fail many
locals would make their way from the hillside villages to take a look
at the strangers parked on the beach. Most times it was shy children
gazing at us as if we were extraterrestrial beings that just landed
in our inflatable rubber spacecraft. But on this occasion some thirty
or forty villagers made their way down to have a look and put on a
bit of a show. It was Diwali
festival time. This five day 'festival of lights' is
the second most important Hindu extravaganza in Nepal. The third day
is considered to be the most important as this is when Lakshmi, the
goddess of wealth, comes to visit every home that is lit well enough
to justify her presence.

Well,
these folks were banging drums, moving slowly in a circle, and
chanting ‘Doh-So-Ree’ (I forget the translation). They had a
small donation plate in the sand and when one of our guides placed a
few rupees on the plate he was subsequently picked up and carried
around in circles to the chant of ‘Doh-So-Ree’. Some of us
decided we should do the same so we pooled some rupees for the
offering. As we determined the logistics of trying to pick me would
be most entertaining I was chosen to place the money on the plate.
They were undeterred. Three younger Nepali males hoisted me as high
as they could and carried me in the sand to the familiar chant. All
were entertained by that one.

This
is also turned out to be 'stupid obnoxious fire' night. We acquired
some of the largest driftwood we could find and placed it in the
sand…..upright. The tallest branch stood a good eight or nine feet
in the air. Although the flames failed to reach the maximum height
possible the fire was sufficiently robust to elicit a sinister grin
from all of us. The guides were not sure what to make of it but if
they were displeased we sure as hell would not have known it even if
they told us directly. I think they were equally
enthralled…….probably.

On
one occasion we stopped at a riverside village to replenish our
alcohol supply. The town was a bit ramshackle to say the least but it
did have an interesting feature; there was Maoist propaganda painted
all over the walls of buildings. I guess we were in the land of true
believers. I was approached by a woman who seemed to recognize me and
began speaking to me as if we were old acquaintances. This went on
for some time and I was mesmerized by the conviction with which she
spoke. She was clearly undeterred by the fact that I had absolutely
no clue as to what she was saying. She had knowledge to impart and
nothing would stand in her way. When a local man asked what she was on
about she insisted that she knew us and continued to pontificate.
Finally, she moved on to some others of us as she had done all she
could with me. If only I knew what she was saying.

During
lunch one day we began hurling ourselves off a small sand shelf into
the river for the hell of it. We even began synchronizing leaps among
the lot of us. The other guide (Armid) definitely received the most
outstanding leap award. Have you ever witnessed a three year old
hurling him or herself into a kiddie pool. That about summed it up.
He would begin with the most sprightly of sprints, almost skipping while flailing his arms and wearing a countenance of
unbridled childish ecstasy. Invariably he would jump entirely too
early, land on the sand right in front of the water, and then lunge
about two and a half feet into the river. Damn entertaining.

The
trip was not without its hitches, most notably in the form of
intestinal malady. For the most part the food was excellent but on
the fifth or sixth night we were served an ungodly portion of rice
and kidney beans. When I tell you there was probably a sufficient
quantity to incapacitate fifteen people I do not exaggerate. It was
absurd. And for reasons beyond us some of us decided to make it a
personal challenge. Up until that point I had been eating like a pig
with an intestinal parasite and this night was no exception. I
believe I ingested enough food for three people and a toddler.
I was a gluttonous moron. And I paid dearly. I barely made it to the
sand next to the fire and proceeded to slip into semi-catatonic
state. Had any of the before mentioned monkeys decided to make me
their prison bitch there would have been little I could have done to
thwart their advances.

The
next day I fared no better as my noxious flatulence turned into an
unholy form of diarrhea. At one point I found myself squatting
against a rock praying for a reprieve. It finally came but that was a
day I hope not to repeat. I was not the only victim, just the most
severely affected. I may never be able to eat another kidney bean in
my life.

And then there was the screaming contest. Throughout our
trip children would congregate along the riverbank to continuously
and relentlessly yell who knows what in our direction. I am sure it
was mostly innocuous and playful but after six days of it I decided
to retaliate. While we were about to enjoy lunch one day an exchange went like
this:

Children
across the river: BLAAAAAAAAAAAAH, GIBBERISH, BLAH,
BLAAAAAAAAAAH!

Me:
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!

Children
across the river: [momentary silence due to what I presume to be
shock followed by playful regurgitation] AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!

Me:
AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH GAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!

Children
across the river: [another momentary silence and then another
imitation] AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH GAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!

They
could not quite duplicate that one but they made a hell of an effort.
This went on for about five minutes. Perhaps I need a CAT Scan.

After
all that time on the river we concluded the tour with a 15 hour night
ride from Dharan Bazaar back to Kathmandu on a public bus. Yipee. It
was about what you would expect: broken seats, overcrowding, lack of
rear suspension, terrible roads, unreasonable speeds, near
collisions, and the obligatory tire puncture. People were standing,
sitting, and sleeping in the isle. The kids sitting behind my friend
and I enjoyed playing with our hair which finally elicited a ‘STOP
IT!!’ from Jason. I think they were stunned as it took a
good 90 seconds for them to whimper out a ‘soooooorrry’.

By
some miracle I managed to sleep but I think the Valium doled out by a
member of the group assisted in that department. It was quite a treat
to awake to the violent jostling and swaying of the bus that appeared
to be doing Mach 2 and careening down the road completely out of
control. It was best to just close one’s eyes and find a happy
place.

Imagine
enjoying all of this from the comfort of the roof!!! One of our
porters (age 16-22) who had been sleeping on the floor, decided it
was all too much, grabbed a sleeping bag and moved to the roof of the
bus where he remained for the second half of the ride. There was a
rack with various goods attached but I was still amazed to find him
up there when we reached Kathmandu.

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